1905.] on Personal Recollections of Johannes Brahms. 137 



the part of " Harapha." A few kind and encouraging words, however, 

 soon put me at my ease, and I could give myself up to scrutinising 

 Brahms' personal appearance. 



He was broad-chested, of somewhat short stature, with a tendency 

 to stoutness. His face was then clean shaven, revealing a rather 

 thick, genial underlip ; the healthy and ruddy colour of his skin 

 indicated a love of nature and a habit of being in the open air in 

 all kinds of weather ; his thick brown hair fell down nearly to his 

 shoulders. His clothes and boots were not exactly of the latest 

 pattern, nor did they fit particularly well, but his linen was spotless. 



What, however, struck me most, was the kindliness of his eyes. 

 They were of a light blue, wonderfully keen and bright, with now 

 and then a roguish twinkle in them, and yet at times of almost child- 

 like tenderness. Soon I was to find out that that roguish twinkle in 

 his eyes corresponded with a quality in his nature, which would, per- 

 haps, be best described as good-natured sarcasm. To give a few 

 illustrations of that here : In the afternoon of that day, a friend of 

 mine, a rather celebrated composer, had asked Brahms to be allowed 

 to play to him, from the MS., his latest composition, a violin concerto. 

 Brahms consented to hear it, and seated himself some little way from 

 the piano. Mr. So-and-so played his work with great enthusiasm 

 and force, the perspiration — it was a very warm day — streaming down 

 his face. 



When he had finished, Brahms got up, approached the piano, 

 took a sheet of the MS. between his thumb and middle-finger, and, 

 rubbing it between them, exclaimed, " First-rate ! I say, where do 

 you buy your music paper ? " 



In the evening I found myself sitting with Brahms in a KneijJe — 

 one of those cosy restaurants, redolent of the mixed perfumes of 

 beer, wine, coffee, and food, so dear to Germans in general, and to 

 German artists in particular — in the company of four or five pro- 

 minent composers of the day, who had come from their different 

 places of abode to attend the festival. 



The musical proceedings of the day had been the chief topic of 

 conversation, when suddenly one of the " Herren Kapellmeister," 

 pointing toward me (some new songs of mine had figured on the 

 programme of the morning's concert), exclaimed : " Now, just look at 

 that lucky fellow Henschel ! He can both sing and compose, and 

 we "—describing with his hand a circle which included Brahms — 

 " we can compose only." 



" And not even that,'' it came instantly from Brahms, whilst his 

 countenance bore the expression of the most perfect innocence. It 

 was not until the spring of the following year (1875) that I met 

 Brahms again. In the meantime, some letters had passed between 

 us, resulting in my being engaged to sing at some concerts of the 

 Society of the Friends of Music in Vienna — of which Brahms, at 

 that time, was the conductor ; and it may be imagined how great an 



